


Not Anymore

by JosephineStone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:57:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2350856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosephineStone/pseuds/JosephineStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron wants to start playing Quidditch again, and Hermione thinks it would be a great way to get everyone working together. Harry will only agree to play if Malfoy does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** [](http://digthewriter.livejournal.com/profile)[**digthewriter**](http://digthewriter.livejournal.com/)  
>  **Glomp For:** [](http://scford.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://scford.livejournal.com/)**scford**  
> 

  
If there's no feeling of fear, then there's no need for courage. — David Levithan from _Boy Meets Boy_

Harry and Hermione sat in the stands and watched Neville attempt to play Quidditch one on one with Ron. Neville was still terrified of heights. His flight was jerky and uneven. Hermione kept holding her breath then gasping then exhaling as he’d lose his balance, descend a few feet, then regain it and pull himself higher in the air.

‘Quit laughing.’ She gasped again then sighed when he regained control. ‘He’s going to get himself killed.’

‘I’m laughing at you, not him. He volunteered, Hermione, he’ll be fine. He wants to get over his fear.’

‘Well, I don’t think this is the proper way to do that. He should learn to fly _before_ he attempts to handle a Quaffle. He hasn’t even made it to half-height of the shortest goal post yet—’

‘Did you just laugh?’

‘I had something in my throat.’ Hermione’s tone was serious, but she turned her head away from Harry and he caught a hint of a smile. He laughed at her again, and then she said, ‘Fine, I laughed. It’s just he’s trying to play Quidditch so low to the ground. He looks ridiculous.’

He did, and then they were both laughing more than they had in more than a year. At half past the hour, Ron and Neville came off the Pitch and Harry and Hermione ran down to join them. Ron seemed bored, but Neville was sweating and shaky. It took more effort to not laugh at him then. He respected Neville, he respected what he was doing, but he was a sight to see dripping sweat, gasping for breath and still barely making it off the ground when on the broom.

During the weekend, they ran into Dean and Seamus with Justin Finch-Fletchley and Anthony Goldstein already throwing around a Quaffle on the Pitch.

‘We thought you’d like a few more,’ Dean called out to them as soon as he saw them, and Ron ran to them in his excitement. ‘Come on, Harry, if you join us we’ll have enough for a team.’

‘Thanks, but I’m not really up for it today.’ Or any day for that matter, but Ron didn’t push the point.

They split into two teams of three and were all chasers, and Harry followed Hermione up to the top of the stands to watch while she read. He could feel her watching him as she flipped through the book in front of her. He had his own book, which Ron had teased him about. ‘You look so studious—like a Ravenclaw, when did you become a Ravenclaw?’

‘Don’t know, Ron, maybe they should’ve re-sorted us when they let us come back.’ Harry didn’t mean to snap at Ron. Everything just came out that way. He was as happy as he’d ever been, but he needed the year to think. No one comes out of war the same they went in. Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to spend his whole life chasing down criminals, and he’d never had an opportunity to entertained any other options before.

‘I bet if we asked around we could find enough players for a couple teams.’ Hermione barely read her book as she stopped to watch her boyfriend every few minutes.

Harry snorted. ‘Take the rejects from all the houses?’

‘I _meant_ out of our group.’

Harry didn’t respond.

‘I was surprised how many of us came back,’ Hermione said, soft and quiet as though she were approaching a frighten animal. ‘Like Justin. Or any of the Slytherins really. Zabini was Slytherin’s chaser, you’d think they’d let him join?’ There was distance between them where they sat, but a comfortable distance. They no longer had to worry about Ron’s insecurities reading too much into their friendship.

‘You think he’d want to?’

‘I think it would be a good idea to ask.’

‘Well then, tell Ron. I’m not playing.’ Again it came out harsher than he meant it.

‘Hmm. Goyle came back as well. That’s three Slytherins if we got Malfoy. I bet they’d all play if we could get one of them to. Who else? Did anyone play for Hufflepuff our year?’

‘Abbott.’

‘Right.’ Hermione put away her book and shifted closer to him. ‘Why don’t you want to play Harry?’

‘I don’t feel like games at the moment.’ Harry shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal, he just wasn’t as interested in Quidditch as his mates were.

‘It might help you clear your mind.’

‘Maybe, I don’t want my mind clear, Hermione, you ever think of that? Maybe, I want to fill it. Not with facts—so don’t get too excited, but with ideas. Possibilities...’

During breakfast the following weekend, Ron bounded up to them excited with the news, ‘We only need a few more people and we’d have enough for two full teams, mate.’

Harry looked at Hermione who seemed entirely too pleased with herself and smiled with her.

‘Zabini agreed right away and he’s asking his mates, so we might have three Slytherins by the end of today. We could use another seeker though.’

‘Malfoy’s playing?’ Harry’s interest perked up at the news.

Ron’s grin grew wider. ‘We’ll know soon. You thinking about joining?’

Harry picked at his breakfast not looking at either of his friends, until his silence caused them to trade those worried looks and the air around them filled with unease. ‘I’ll play if Malfoy plays.’ He pushed his plate away, grabbed his book, and left them to their breakfast. Even though most things moved forward, Harry could still feel the mark of the war on everything around him. It should have been too loud for him to hear Ron’s, ‘D’you think we should look in the book he’s reading?’

There was nothing sinister about his book. No handwriting in it at all. It didn’t speak to him and was altogether non-magical. It was just a novel. Written in 1914, but published 1971. Harry headed outside, sure the others would congregate on the Pitch as soon as they could, and headed up to the top of the stands where he and Hermione had sat before.

Soon others arrived, but Malfoy never came.

#

‘I’m sorry about your flying lessons, Neville.’ Hermione walked between Harry and Neville, as they headed towards the Great Hall for supper.

‘It’s alright. I shouldn’t have tried Quidditch to begin with. I just thought it was the only way to get Ron out there.’

Harry snorted and said, ‘It probably was.’

‘Speaking of flying.’ Hermione broke in quietly and giving Harry a sideways glance. ‘The Headmaster said the Eighth years could have an official game in the rotation, if we get full teams.’

‘Do they need an official game? We don’t get nor lose House points, and plenty of people have been watching them play. It was about having fun not a competition. Besides, aren’t all three Slytherins on the same team right now: Greengrass, Zabini, and Goyle. They’d need Malfoy for a complete team, and I don’t see that working out well with the past we’re supposed to be trying to get passed.’

‘You said you’d play if Malfoy did.’

‘And I will, but I don’t want to play against him.’

‘But,’ Neville said. ‘You’re both Seekers.’

‘Well, maybe one of us shouldn’t be—or neither of us should be. It doesn’t matter, since he’s not playing, and until he does neither am I.’

‘Why?’

Hermione shook her head, wide-eyed at Neville, but Harry just rolled his eyes. ‘He makes it interesting. Playing Quidditch is the same thing I’ve done while at Hogwarts for six years. I want to do some things different this year, and not just be the same person doing the same things I was every other year here. Playing _with_ Malfoy would be interesting. That’d be something to spend time on.’

There he’d said it—it didn’t stop Neville and Hermione from trading looks of _what is he on about_ and _I have no idea_. Didn’t matter. He wasn’t hiding anything though, and Ron and Hermione needed to quit acting like Harry felt touchy about bringing up Malfoy.

It wasn’t a sensitive topic.

And then Malfoy was there, walking down the hall toward them: alone.

And so was Harry for Hermione and Neville had stopped walking as he continued. ‘Malfoy.’ Harry nodded to him, catching Malfoy’s attention and judging by his expression by surprise. Malfoy’s expression moved from confusing to a polite smile, before responding with a nod of his own.

This exchanged left Harry unprepared for the attack that came from him later when no one else was there to witnesses it.

‘Would you call off this stupid ultimatum? You don’t need me to play for you to. Wasn’t Longbottom wanting to use Quidditch to learn how to fly? Have him be the other Seeker. That way most of time he’ll get to keep two hands on the broom and have less contact with the other players. Present company excluded, Seeker is the safest position to play.’ Which wasn’t all that threatening on its own, but Malfoy had his hand around Harry’s neck pinning him to the wall. Harry wondered if it was a sign how angry Malfoy was that he was using physical violence or a sign he didn’t trust his new wand.

‘You can let me go. I’m not going to run.’

Malfoy growled and pulled his arm away.

‘What’s wrong? I haven’t bothered you about this once—how do you even know I wanted you to play?’

‘Because everyone other than you _has_ bothered me about it. They want you to play, and I’m apparently the only thing standing in your way.’

‘I’ll talk to my friends—’

‘Not your friends.’ Malfoy crossed his arms and turned to lean against the wall next to Harry. When he looked up and saw the confusion on Harry’s face, he rolled his eyes. ‘How thick are you? Your friends are the only ones who haven’t spoken to me, threatened me, sent stinging hexes at me and then threatened me again. I had enough of all of that before you pulled this shite.’

‘I’m sorry. I had no idea.’

‘Well, now you do.’ Malfoy pushed himself off the wall and began to walk away, but Harry grabbed his arm. After Malfoy turned to look at him, Harry’s hand shook and he dropped Malfoy’s arm.

‘Come on, Malfoy, play with me.’

‘I had enough losing to you through the years I played for my House team. I don’t need nor want to sign up for more of it. It’s a waste of my time.’

He stepped closer to Malfoy. ‘Then play with me and not against me.’ Harry had no interest in beating Malfoy anymore than Malfoy was interested in attempting to beat Harry. Not anymore.

‘I have no desire to do that anymore, either.’ Malfoy was gone, before Harry could respond as all he could think about was the word: anymore.

Which made Malfoy’s appearance at the next scheduled game a surprise for Harry, quite a bit more than everyone else. Of course, finding out he came only to watch was less surprising.

Hermione waved as he came up into the stands. ‘Sit with us.’

He hesitated, looked at Harry and then returned his gaze towards Hermione, before he nodded and went up to sit with them. He walked down the aisle in front of the one they were sitting in, passed Harry, passed Hermione, passed Neville and then climbed up to their row and sat next to Neville. Harry tried to ignore the slight against him, and the obvious way Malfoy went about avoiding him. He tried to ignore that Malfoy was there at all. He was quiet enough, but Hermione and Neville kept engaging him in conversation. So Harry pulled his book out and began reading in hopes of blocking them out.

He caught patches of conversation about the game they were watching—to last only an hour, since they didn’t have any seekers to stop the game—and how—they all agreed—it wasn’t helping anyone move past the war because the three Slytherins were on the same team. Their team always lost because the other three players weren’t working well with them. It wasn’t the friendly game they’d hoped it’d be, and Ron was getting discouraged that it would ever become that way. So Hannah Abbott and Ron switched, but there was only so much he could do as the keeper.

‘What are you read—oi, what was that—’

Harry looked up to see Malfoy rubbing his side and rolling his eyes at Neville’s brute force way informing him _we don’t talk about that_. Harry wanted to answer. It wasn’t a big deal, but when he started to his eyes met Malfoy’s and he looked back down to his book pretending he hadn’t heard anything.

‘So, Weasley ditched you on the flying lesson then?’

Neville shrugged. ‘S’not that important.’

‘I can teach you, if you’re still up for it.’

Hermione said, ‘That’s a great idea—Malfoy’s an excellent flyer,’ at the same time that Harry said, ‘You? Teach?’ Shattering his illusion of not listening to them.

‘Yeah,’ Malfoy said. ‘I seem to recall hearing you’re a great teacher, and everyone knows you’re a great flier. It’s surprising really that you haven’t offered to teach him in the—what is it now—seven years you’ve been his dorm-mate and friend?’

‘That’d be great, Malfoy,’ Neville cut in before Harry could answer. ‘When would—’

‘Let’s start after the game.’ Malfoy glared at Harry when he said it. ‘You already lost two weeks to this.’ He gestured to the game in front of them. When the game ended and Hermione as well as everyone else left to study or shower or eat, Harry was frozen in place. They waited until everyone was gone—and it was obvious that Harry wasn’t leaving—before they started.

Harry couldn’t hear them and it was maddening. First, Malfoy asked him questions about the broom. He could tell because Malfoy’s sentences were short and Neville’s were long, disjointed, and accompanied by a lot of pointing at the broom. Malfoy’s broom. Apparently, Goyle had been using Malfoy’s broom to play in the games with. Second, he had Neville mount the broom and do as they’d done in their first class with Madam Hooch. Third, he had Neville dismount it and he got on it.

Apparently, Malfoy thought Neville needed to lose his fear of heights before he actually flew high, because he was going to fly him. Neville hesitated. Even from far away, Harry could tell he was worried about being up in the air with Malfoy in control. He got behind Malfoy and Harry jumped up. Neville put his arms about Malfoy’s waist, and then Harry was running down the stands. Malfoy lifted them off the ground and Harry screamed, ‘What the bloody hell are you doing?’ No one heard him because he was still too far away and by the time he got down on the Pitch they were gone.

Harry cursed and hit the ground. Over and over again his fist hit the earth. He could summon his broom and go after them, but no—how would he explain that? The fear ate away at his stomach, but his mind calmly stated that he knew Neville was fine. He sat on back on the Pitch and tried to breathe and get his limbs to stop shaking. He couldn’t be there when they got back. Not on the Pitch covered in dirt. Harry stood, brushed himself off, and went to find his book that he dropped with his body still acting like it was much colder than it was.

They returned both smiling. Harry wanted to hurt them both.

#

‘Ah, a new book today.’ Malfoy joined Harry in the hall as he was headed toward the Pitch. ‘Am I not allowed to ask about this one either?’ Malfoy seemed in a better mood that day, and Harry was happy that he ignited the conversation.

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘It’s _Brideshead Revisited_. I liked the last one better, which was called _Maurice_ for your information. I have no problem talking about my reading material.’

‘Your friends seem to think you do.’

‘Hmm.’ There was no easy way to explain that. He didn’t like talking to Ron and Hermione about certain things—like their relationship. That didn’t extend to everyone, or really anyone else.

‘Out of curiosity, what do you plan on reading next?’

‘I don’t know, maybe, _The Picture of Dorian Gray_.’ Harry smiled to himself at Malfoy’s confused look. Malfoy wasn’t interested in playing with him _anymore_ , either he had said. Did that mean he was no longer interested in being his friend? Did that mean he _had_ been interested in being his friend for all those years they were fighting. And therefore, why was he talking to him then, if he’d lost interest in Harry?

‘So, you are gay then?’

‘What?’

‘Come on, Potter.’ Malfoy rolled his eyes. ‘You are _one of the Oscar Wilde sort_. I see why your friends think you wouldn’t want to talk about it. Interesting too that you have no problem talking about it and yet you never do.’

Harry shrugged. ‘It never came up.’

‘I find that hard to believe. You didn’t tell Ginevra when you broke up? No one asks you, “Who do you fancy now?” They’ve never asked why you’ve a sudden interest in gay literature—well, I suppose not that last part as it’s forbidden to be spoke of.’

‘That’s not why we broke up, and no we’ve never talked about that sort of thing with each other.’ Malfoy gave him an odd look, and Harry shrugged again. ‘We had more important things to talk about.’ They were close to the door leading them outside when Harry stopped. Malfoy did as well waiting for him. ‘Malfoy...why—’ Harry swallowed as his hands began that annoying shaking thing again. ‘Why don’t you want to play?’

Malfoy leant his back against the wall to their left with a sigh. ‘I don’t want all those eyes on me. Watching me, waiting for me to screw up, hoping that I will so that they can laugh at me even more than they are now. And I don’t appreciate how you went about trying to get me to play, by the way.’

‘I told you, I was sorry about that.’ Harry stood next to him, putting his left arm against the wall inches away from Malfoy. ‘I had no idea people would react the way they did.’ Harry paused before he said, ‘But you have no problem flying with Neville, and people have been coming out to watch that.’

‘You get this weird look on your face when you see us together.’ Malfoy crossed his arms and studied Harry’s expression as Harry tried to make it a casual one. ‘What is that about? Nothing is going on between me and Longbottom,’ Malfoy’s tone was stern and bit annoyed. ‘He was nice to me last year, and I wanted to return the favour. I don’t even think he’s gay.’

‘I know.’ Harry closed his eyes, groaned and let his head fall onto his hand against the wall. ‘I know, he would never do that to me.’

‘What does that mean?’

Harry cursed himself for saying anything.

‘What am I to you that him being with me, would mean he was doing something to you?’ Malfoy leant in close to Harry’s face, and he could feel his breath on his cheek. ‘Would you care if he dated Pansy or dated Blaise, or is it just me? Who do you fancy right now, Potter?’

Harry looked at Malfoy before he said, ‘You.’

Malfoy began to back away, but Harry put his other arm against the wall on Malfoy’s other side stopping him from leaving. ‘Wait.’

Malfoy gave Harry’s arm a look showing that he didn’t really have a choice.

‘Stick around after and fly with me today.’ Harry brought his hand up to Malfoy’s face, but Malfoy moved his head before it made contact. ‘Please.’

‘T-tonight. Midnight—meet me on the Pitch and bring your broom.’

Harry sighed in relief and started to lean in, when Malfoy pushed him back.

‘Do you really want to get me excited, before I go sit on a broom with Longbottom?’

Harry blushed, stepped back, and gave Malfoy room to breathe and walk away. Harry caught up with him in a couple paces and walked with him out to the Pitch, fighting himself to not brush up against him as they walked.

Neville made it to the top of the highest goal post that day by himself.

#

Harry was reminded of the first time he was to meet Malfoy at midnight. This time he showed. Malfoy brought his broom as well and the excitement that had been building inside Harry left him.

‘Don’t look so disappointed. I thought you wanted to fly?’ Malfoy pulled out a snitch. ‘Do you want a game.’

No, he didn’t. He shook his head, placed his broom against the stands, and then walked to Malfoy and pulled his robes forcing him step closer to Harry as well, and nodded toward the broom. Malfoy rolled his eyes, but held out the broom toward Harry. Harry didn’t take it, Malfoy got the point and mounted it, and then waited for Harry to get on behind him before he brought them off the ground.

Harry loved the feel of Malfoy’s hips. He snuck his fingertips under Malfoy’s shirt and then around the edges of his trousers. Harry didn’t know what the night looked or felt like. There was no smell except for Malfoy’s, no sight except for his shoulder where Harry’s mouth fell when he pulled him close, his hair as it blew in the wind, his hands on the broom, no sound except for Malfoy’s breathing that continued to get shallower as they flew.

‘Shite, Potter. You're going to make me crash if you keep that up. Put your arms around me. Are you trying to fall off?’

Malfoy took them in a dive the next moment and they landed rough and ended up rolling through the grass. Harry rolled on top of him, and he could feel how much Harry was affecting him as well. When he leant into to kiss him, Malfoy pushed him back again.

‘Can’t we take this slow?’

‘I was only going to kiss you.’

‘Yeah, that thing in your trousers is telling a different story.’

Harry raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re in the same position as I am.’

‘It’s just—I’m used to going fast, and then they always leave the next day.’

‘I’m not going to leave you.’ Harry kissed him, and Draco let him. He let him pull up his shirt. He let him undo his trousers. He let him sneak his hand down his pants. Malfoy’s movements mirrored all of Harry’s. Harry was so lost in sensation that he didn’t pay attention to what he was saying or rather moaning over and over again, until Malfoy said, ‘My name is Draco.’

Harry pulled back with his glasses askew and Draco laughed and took them off. Draco closed the frames and then went very still.

‘What is it?’

‘I’ve never seen you without your glasses before.’

‘I can’t imagine it’d be that different.’

‘It’s—’ Draco’s thumb traced underneath his eyes. ‘You have really beautiful eyes.’ Malfoy kissed him. Not in the hungry way that Harry first kissed him, but he became that way shortly after. He pulled Harry to him even though they were as close as they could get and Harry tried to say his name—Draco and not Malfoy—but it came out in broken fragments. He was coming, and then Draco was. He tried to say the name again. He was still coming as Draco was catching his breath beneath him.

‘Fuck why won’t it stop,’ Harry said, and then it did. ‘I’m sorry—that wasn’t really slow.’

‘We still have our clothes on, even if we are mostly hanging out of them.’ Draco was smiling, so Harry took that as a good sign.

‘Draco—’ Harry came a little bit, again, and Draco laughed. Harry bit his lip, but ended up laughing as well. ‘Where are my glasses?’

#

‘Harry!’ Ron ran up to him in the hall. ‘Malfoy agreed to play!’

So Harry did as well, and per Harry’s request no one kept their original positions. Ron and Hannah were still the team Captains, but they had to pick new teams and the positions they would play on the teams.

Ron’s first choice was, of course, Harry. Hannah chose Queenie. Ron picked Malfoy, since Harry didn’t really give him any other option. They went back and forth until both teams were formed, and had the positions picked at random. Draco and Harry ended up as Chasers, and Ron was the Seeker. They played their first game for fun, and for the first time it really was.

Queenie caught the Snitch to end the game two hours after it started.

No one knew what they were doing and with the constant fumbles and the Snitch getting away multiple times, everyone laughed through the entire game. Neville joked that he wouldn’t have looked so out of place out there that day, and Hermione was still laughing as they all headed in.

After all the other games of the season were played, after the Quidditch Cup was awarded to Hufflepuff, to end the season the two Eighth Year teams got their one official game. They were the Phoenixs vs. the Unicorns.

‘And Malfoy has the Quaffle he’s speeding toward the goal, but Finnigan is ready for him. He shoots—wait, no he passes it to Potter who misses by about 100 yards. Good try.’

No one scored very often.

‘Abbott passes to Thomas who passes to Goyle who almost but not quite, sorry mate.’

But they worked together.

‘Greengrass has spotted the Snitch, but Weasley is—on the other side of the Pitch. He seems to have heard my commentary and is now racing across the Pitch, watch out for your teammates, Weasley.’

Somehow, Queenie lost the Snitch trail, again, but it popped up a few moments later and the game ended with Ron’s first catch ever.

They’d lost a lot of Snitches during their practice sessions.

They lifted Ron off the field and ran him back to the castle. It reminded Harry of their Sixth year, except they weren’t in the Gryffindor Common Room, they weren’t all hiding secret crushes from each other, and that this time it was Draco Malfoy who snogged Harry in the middle of the celebration.


End file.
